And Wolf was astounded at the impertinence of what Miss Gault did say. It was an impertinence covered up with bronze and brocade. But it was an indecent impertinence. It resembled the absurd drapery covering the symbolic figure of Mercy, or Truth, or Righteousness, which dominated the great dining-room clock that stood in the middle of the marble chimneypiece. “I confess I first thought,” Miss Gault was now saying, “of having Olwen to live with Emma and me⁠ ⁠… but I couldn’t have her teasing the cats⁠ ⁠… or pining for you⁠ ⁠… so this Home is better. I have made a lot of enquiries about this Home. I made them last year, for another purpose; and it’s lucky I did, because people don’t hear of these things when they really want them. The beautiful thing about it is that they accept mother and child⁠ ⁠… and of course Olwen is like your child now. Another great advantage about this plan is that Taunton is so near us all⁠ ⁠… only a couple of hours by train.” She made a little nod in Wolf’s direction. “Wolf would be able to run over and see you on Sundays,” she added.